


Bend at the Waist Now

by UpYourStreet (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Ballet Dancer John, Blow Jobs, John is Eager, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Power Dynamics, Professor Sherlock, Rimming, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Student John, University AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/UpYourStreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Sherlock has many a bright talented student in his University Chemistry class but it's the ballet dancer on a scholarship that really catches his attention. Sherlock plans to do something about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bend at the Waist Now

Sherlock Holmes was a well respected professor of Chemistry, the youngest the University had ever employed. Usually his students wanted to be there, eager to take on Sherlock's classes that were famous for being insanely difficult but intensely rewarding. Sometimes, though, Sherlock received students that had no choice but to be there simply because they needed a Science credit and everywhere else was full.

That was John Watson, a student on a Dance Scholarship with the Ballet Program. He didn't really have any interest in Chemistry, that was clear, and his performance in class wasn't what Sherlock usually expected from his students. John did well enough, though, sometimes even got the best marks in the class, and while Sherlock would have normally tried to place a student like John in someone else's class (like Lestrade's biology — Sherlock could have gotten John in there if he'd wanted) there was something about John. Something that kept Sherlock eagerly waiting for John to come to his class.

Maybe it was how John continually surprised him by knowing the answers whenever he was called on, never hesitating, never stuttering or mumbling- he would speak clearly and correctly, something that some of Sherlock's best and brightest students still couldn't manage when he looked them in the eye. John never volunteered answers, never spoke up in class, but if Sherlock said his name John would immediately straighten in his seat and answer any question.

Though maybe that wasn't it exactly, maybe it was also how John moved, all graceful fluidity when he walked to his seat or got up to hand out materials which Sherlock deliberately called upon him to do. John was a clearly bored dancer stuck in Chemistry lectures wishing he could get up and move his body, so he fidgeted, wiggled in his seat sometimes, unconsciously practiced arm, hand, wrist movements in muted tiny ways when he was thinking, reading. Sherlock's eyes were always drawn to him.

So maybe, in fact, the reason why Sherlock was so keen to keep John around was that not only was John an interesting student, but he was incredibly pleasing to the eye. Sherlock was a scientist, yes, who preferred to keep away from messy human needs but he wasn't _dead_ , and when someone like John Watson was around…

Sometimes when Sherlock was staring at John, John would look up, look right at him, and when their gazes locked something magnificent and electrifying would sizzle down Sherlock's spine. John's eyes were dark blue like a midnight ocean and Sherlock could read so many things in his gaze — stress, exhaustion, excitement, boredom but most of all what Sherlock saw was arousal. Not just any kind of arousal easily explained by outside environmental factors, but arousal of a sexual nature.

It took Sherlock half of a semester to work out what he was going to do about it.

*

Fridays were usually the favourite day amongst the students in Sherlock's class. Since Sherlock tended to be hard on his students he always tried to give everyone a break on Fridays by giving his students options like an early dismissal but with weekend homework or an easy pop quiz that would count towards their final grade but they had to keep perfect attendance for the next week or they would get a zero. Sherlock was demanding but he wasn't heartless and going a little easier on his students for one set day per week had a proven record of improving student performance, not to mention improved morale with an at least eighty percent rise in willingness to finish the assigned homework on weekends.

It was on such a Friday that Sherlock gave his class two options: leave early and finish four pages of chemistry equations by Monday morning with the knowledge that if they didn't they would be facing a zero, or stay for the class length and finish two pages of equations with Sherlock there to help and no extra weekend homework.

Naturally everyone wanted the early dismissal option. It was a beautiful Friday full of promise with springtime in full swing. There was a scheduled Uni rugby match that night and plenty of students were wanting to spend more time at the pre-game festivities and god only knew how many parties instead of being stuck in class.

So Sherlock watched everyone packing up to leave quickly, all of them mostly ignoring his calm reminder that if they didn't finish their questions by Monday he wouldn't be so generous next time.

There was a student missing amongst the large crowd who were filing quickly out the door. Sherlock found him easily, he was still sitting at his desk apparently deep in thought - or so he looked. Sherlock hoped he'd stay behind. John was clearly in the middle of practicing for a performance judging by the soft bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and how he kept pointing his feet under his desk, his trainers resting on their tips before John would do an aborted plié, knees apart, feet flat on the ground, heels together. It was fascinating to watch, especially with John wearing his clingy black dance shorts; when he would bring his feet up to rest on the tips of his shoes his calf muscles would tighten and bulge, a beautiful example of the power and strength John possessed.

Sherlock found himself becoming more and more aroused from just watching that. He very much wanted to get closer to John, much closer, and alone. He couldn't follow John to his dorm so keeping him after class was the only option. If Sherlock was honest, his willingness to let the class go early that day was at least ninety percent because he wanted John to stay behind.

It appeared John might very well do that. He was lagging behind still, though he'd at least gotten up from his desk. Mostly everyone had trickled out leaving a few stragglers behind who were too busy chatting to move fast.

“I do have things to do.” Sherlock said at large, pretending to look busy by opening his desk drawers and rearranging stacks of papers.

The stragglers hurried out then with little apologetic noises and rushing feet.

Finally. Alone with John. John who didn't seem to have heard Sherlock's remark about having things to do.

He was putting his books away in his bag. At first Sherlock thought he was being deliberately slow about it but upon a second look it appeared John was listening to music. Little white earbud headphones were hooked up to his mobile phone and stuck in his ears. He was dancing. Tiny practice movements, lifting himself up on his toes and back down again, the one arm he wasn't using to put his books away was lifting up over his head, elbow bent, creating a circular curve.

It was beautiful to watch. With the view of John in profile, Sherlock could admire the length of his lean toned body, his powerful calves and thighs, the curve of his spine, his strong arms, the outline of his rib cage and chest. And of course, Sherlock's eyes were drawn to John's arse, those tight lycra shorts clinging to the curve of it.

He was extremely fit. Sherlock had to adjust his growing erection behind his desk, watching John closely.

It took another several minutes before John finally seemed to realize he was the only one left in class. He appeared startled, popping his earbuds out and sweeping the room with his eyes before they settled on Sherlock there behind his desk.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. “Staying?”

He hoped so. God, he hoped so. He didn't want to have to invent a reason to keep John behind after class. It would be so much easier if John just stayed on his own.

“Er. No.” John said. “I can get in more practice right now if I go.”

Damnit.

Sherlock leaned forward at his desk watching John gather up his heavy book bag and swing it over his shoulder.

“I think you ought to stay, Watson.” Sherlock said calmly.

John's step faltered as he neared Sherlock's desk. “Why?”

“Those equations aren't easy. I won't tolerate any more low marks from you. Midterms are coming up.”

Not strictly a lie… John was passing the class, yes, but he had plenty of room for improvement. Plenty.

“Professor Holmes. Sir. I'm working on a performance and I need—”

“You need to pass my class, Watson.” Sherlock cut in. “You really should stay. I can give you one-to-one time, help you with anything.”

John just stood there for a moment staring at Sherlock. Sherlock stared right back and had to suppress the tiny shiver that wanted to roll down his spine. He could see John's thoughts written all over his face, the interest warring with the dance commitment.

“Only for an hour.” Sherlock added.

John broke the gaze, shifted his eyes to the door.

“If you fail my class you might lose your scholarship.”

John looked shaken at that. Sherlock internally cringed at himself — that was uncalled for. John was hardly going to fail and alarming him like that was … probably not good. But Sherlock needed him to stay. All he had to do was close the door and he would be alone with John and they could finally do something about the tension.

“Am I that close to failing? I didn't realize.” John said, a crease of confusion between his eyes.

Sherlock cleared his throat, uncurling his hands and placing them flat against his desk. He looked at John closely, taking in his every breath. Those tight, stretchy dance shorts of John's were incredibly distracting and even though his spring jacket hung down to just past his groin, Sherlock could clearly imagine what was hiding beneath it. John appeared confused, a little fearful for his scholarship but he was also clearly intrigued. His gaze kept shifting to the door but his body remained facing Sherlock, stepping closer on each new tick of the clock.

Standing up smoothly from his desk, Sherlock walked around it and stood in front of John forcing his eyes to stay on Sherlock alone.

“Sir?” John questioned. He shifted his body facing Sherlock head-on.

John was shorter than Sherlock by several inches making him tilt his head back to look up at Sherlock. It was an excellent vantage point allowing Sherlock to see how John's pupils widened, the blue irises drowning in something darker.

And with Sherlock standing over John, blocking the overhead lights from hitting John's eyes too harshly, there was really only one reason for John's pupils to expand like that.

Sherlock considered his next words carefully.

“You aren't going to fail my class, Watson,” Sherlock spoke softly, keeping his eyes locked with John's. “But you might need extra help. Extra side projects, perhaps, to boost your grades.”

This close together it was easy to see John's sharp little inhale, the small rise of his chest with breath, the flaring nostrils. His tongue peeked out between his lips for a brief second with a sweeping lick along his bottom lip.

Sherlock stamped down his urge to lean in and chase that tongue with his mouth.

“Do other students regularly get extra side projects, Sir?” John asked.

“No.” Sherlock replied softly. “I'm making a special case for you.”

“For me?”

“You want to get your grades up, don't you?”

“What should we do then? Sir?” John said with a little hitch of breath.

“Put your bag down, you won't need it.” Sherlock said stepping into John's space. He could feel the heat coming from John's body he was so close.

John let his bag slide to the floor. He didn't look away once.

God, Sherlock wanted this boy more than he'd ever desired anyone in his entire life. This fierce young man with his dancer's body and his unflinching bravery. Sherlock was going to devour him.

“Anything else, Sir?” John said in a whisper tilting his face a little closer to Sherlock's. “Anything else I should do to help boost my grades?”

“Keep calling me _Sir_.” Sherlock murmured, closing the space between them.

**Author's Note:**

> It's going to be smut from here on out. It's almost all written so I just have to do a quick edit and then post the remainder.
> 
> Also, this in no way is meant to be an accurate portrayal of University life/students/professors.


End file.
